Echo Bazaar: A Letter to Ms. Harlowe
Dear Ms. Honoria Harlowe,
Would you like to join me for a dance at Mr. Wines' Masked Ball? I thought it might be more pleasant to enjoy the festival together.
Sincerely,
Asher Wilsford
-------
Asher stares at the envelope in his hands, addressed in his neatest handwriting to a "Ms. Honoria Harlowe." It is perfect - of course it is, he has written and scratched out at least five other letters before it. But maybe it should be longer. He can talk about their last meeting, the festival, or how his day has been, perhaps? Asher turns the envelope over and over in his hands. This one is written fine, though, right? Christ, his heart feels like it's about to jump out of his chest.
A cough interrupts the silence, and Asher jerks in his chair. He looks up to see the urchin staring at him - he had forgotten the boy was in the room.
"Ya gonna stare at it all day, or ya want me ta give it to the lady," the urchin asks.
"Ah," Asher opens his mouth then pauses. Should he really send it? No no, it's fine, perfectly acceptable, right? He shoves the letter in the urchin's hand. "Okay, take it to the Crimson Ring," he says, hurriedly.
The boy gives Asher one last look before climbing out the window, muttering something about a "stupid festival." Asher slumps back into the chair, feeling exhausted despite his lack of physical activity. There is nothing to do now but wait.
Would you like to join me for a dance at Mr. Wines' Masked Ball? I thought it might be more pleasant to enjoy the festival together.
Sincerely,
Asher Wilsford
-------
Asher stares at the envelope in his hands, addressed in his neatest handwriting to a "Ms. Honoria Harlowe." It is perfect - of course it is, he has written and scratched out at least five other letters before it. But maybe it should be longer. He can talk about their last meeting, the festival, or how his day has been, perhaps? Asher turns the envelope over and over in his hands. This one is written fine, though, right? Christ, his heart feels like it's about to jump out of his chest.
A cough interrupts the silence, and Asher jerks in his chair. He looks up to see the urchin staring at him - he had forgotten the boy was in the room.
"Ya gonna stare at it all day, or ya want me ta give it to the lady," the urchin asks.
"Ah," Asher opens his mouth then pauses. Should he really send it? No no, it's fine, perfectly acceptable, right? He shoves the letter in the urchin's hand. "Okay, take it to the Crimson Ring," he says, hurriedly.
The boy gives Asher one last look before climbing out the window, muttering something about a "stupid festival." Asher slumps back into the chair, feeling exhausted despite his lack of physical activity. There is nothing to do now but wait.